


Garden of Delights

by Lavender_and_Vanilla



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Do not post to another site, Gardens & Gardening, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Smut, Soft Smut Sunday
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-31
Updated: 2020-05-31
Packaged: 2021-03-03 06:29:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24466486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lavender_and_Vanilla/pseuds/Lavender_and_Vanilla
Summary: It's a beautiful spring day and Greg is wearing his favorite jeans as he works in the garden. Mycroft is rather partial to them as well. It might just be his undoing.
Relationships: Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade, Mycroft Holmes/Lestrade
Comments: 28
Kudos: 143
Collections: Soft Smut Sunday





	Garden of Delights

Greg stopped in the door to Mycroft’s home office, his arms braced on either side of the doorway. “Hey, I’m going out to the backyard. Thought I’d work in the garden a bit. It’s so beautiful today. Need anything?”

One of the things Greg loved most about Mycroft’s London home was the small but tidy back garden. When they decided to move in together, Greg was looking forward to spending cool mornings digging and weeding and warm afternoons and evenings enjoying the results of his labor. Mycroft had professed taking little interest in the space, but Greg was welcome to do what he will with the garden.

Come spring Greg began to work in earnest. He built the raised beds for the vegetables and herbs he planned to grow. He laid out a small patio for the yard furniture and a stone path from it to the backdoor.

“No, I’m fine.” Mycroft replied his eyes running down his partner’s form. Today he was wearing an old, long sleeved t-shirt, a bit snug across his chest and a little short. The sleeves pushed back showing off his forearms. He could see a glimpse of Greg’s toned abdomen and the old jeans had a small tear in the knee. Mycroft’s tongue ran along his lower lip.

“Okay.” Greg tapped the doorframe and turned away. Mycroft bit his lip as he watched Greg saunter down the hall. A rip in the jeans right along the edge of Greg’s bum flashed as he moved, revealing a tantalizing peek of skin. Oh, it was _that_ pair of jeans.

Mycroft gave himself a shake and went back to his work. Thirty minutes later with nothing to show for the time, he was packing it in and heading to the kitchen. From the window in the kitchen he could see Greg raking out the hosta bed. He bent collecting a handful of yard debris and Mycroft got a preview Greg’s lovely arse. Greg straightened and glanced back at the kitchen window as he dumped the sticks and leaves in the large garbage can. He shot Mycroft a cheeky grin and went back to his work.

“Rascal,” Mycroft murmured. He filled a pitcher with ice and water, placing it on a tray with two glasses he went out to the backyard.

“Thought you were working.” Greg called out as the back door closed. He paused in his raking to pick up a large stick.

Mycroft sat the tray on the small table between the two chaise lounge chairs on the patio. “I thought I’d take a break.”

“Oh.” Greg held the stick at both ends and flexed causing the stick to crack in half. He dropped the bits in the waste bin. “Come to help with the gardening?”

Mycroft’s lips parted with a soft sigh. He swallowed hard. “Yes,” he breathed, then remembered himself. “No, I think we both know what a disaster that would be.”

Greg grinned. Once he managed to convince Mycroft to help clear space for the vegetable beds. The three days of coughing, sneezing and wheezing that followed really wasn’t worth asking him again. Except the sex after was spectacular if a bit sniffly.

“Would you like some water?” Mycroft managed to ask. “It’s rather warm out.”

Greg cocked an eye at the sun and wiped his brow with the back of his hand. The T-shirt rode up revealing Greg’s flat belly dusted with grey and brown hair. The waist of his denims sat low showing off the V-cut he’d maintained through the winter. “That sounds good.” He pulled his gloves off as he walked to the table.

“Splendid.” Mycroft’s mind was busy supplying all kinds of helpful information regarding the evident lack of pants Greg was wearing and how the sweat on his upper lip would likely taste. He did manage enough presence of mind to pour the two glasses of water.

Greg stood close as he accepted the offered glass. Mycroft could smell the perspiration mixed with the scent of old leaves and rich dirt. It was so incredibly arousing. Greg tipped back the glass and drank deep, his neck exposed. Mycroft felt the blood leaving his brain and swelling his cock. He sipped on his water avidly watching Greg.

Greg sighed as he finished his water. He pressed the cool glass to his cheek. “Thanks, love.” He set the glass down leaning past Mycroft as he did.

Mycroft caught Greg’s chin as he straightened and guided him in for a kiss. Soft and insistent, Mycroft licked at Greg’s lip. The tang of sweat melded nicely with Greg’s natural sweetness. Mycroft started to move in closer, but Greg pulled back. “I’m all sweaty, love,” he whispered against Mycroft’s mouth.

Mycroft grabbed Greg’s hand and pressed it to his engorged cock. “I know,” he murmured. “And you know exactly how I feel about that, scoundrel.” He buried his nose against Greg’s neck and lay kisses and tiny bites along the way.

Greg pulled Mycroft in close grinding his hip against Mycroft’s cock. Mycroft groaned and managed to set down his glass. His hands clutched Greg’s hips, his thumbs rubbed the crests and long fingers dug into the soft denim.

“I don’t know why you’d say that.” Greg’s voice had gotten gruff and low. He tugged on Mycroft shirt untucking the tails and snaking his hands under to stroke his partner’s back.

Mycroft pulled away from his work of leaving love bites on Greg’s neck and collarbones. “No pants.” He slid his hands around Greg’s bum and slipping one through the tear just below his left cheek.

Greg jumped as Mycroft goosed him. “What cheek!” He grinned at Mycroft.

“What cheek indeed.” Mycroft smirked back and wriggled his hand in further expanding the tear a bit.

“Hey,” Greg exclaimed as Mycroft’s fingers slid along the divide and cupped his arse. “You’re going to ruin my jeans.”

“Oh heavens.” Mycroft pulled his hand out and sank down to sit on the chaise. He opened Greg’s button fly. “Best take them off then.” He pushed the material aside and Greg thick member popped into view. Mycroft thought it looked delicious.

“Oh God,” Greg hissed as Mycroft’s tongue twined itself around his cock, before lapping at the weeping tip.

Mycroft kneaded Greg’s arse as he lavished attention on the swollen prick before him. His own cock throbbed in his pants and he rocked back and forth minutely in his seat.

“Oh sweet…” Greg panted and clutched at Mycroft’s shoulders. He began to thrust in and out of Mycroft’s mouth. “Fuuuckk…” His legs trembled mightily as the orgasm built.

Mycroft looked up at Greg, eyes bright and mouth stretched and full of Greg’s weighty cock. Greg gazed down in wonder, little shock waves and tingles shooting through his body presaging the moment to come.

“No,” Greg pulled back. “I want you like this.” He pressed Mycroft back against the chaise. His hands pulled Mycroft’s shirt fully loose and fumbled with the belt and buttons of his trousers. “You seriously wear too much clothing,” he grumbled as he finally got the fastenings undone. Mycroft chuckled and helped push down his pants to let his own leaking and throbbing cock spring free.

“Mm… there’s my beautiful ginger boy,” Greg crooned. He covered Mycroft with his body slotting their engorged pricks together. Mycroft moaned as they met, his eyes rolling up and hands restlessly stroking Greg’s flanks.

Greg licked his palm and reached between them wrapping their erections in a firm grip.

Mycroft shuddered under Greg. He craned his neck up to catch Greg’s mouth with his own and kissed the man hungrily as Greg pumped their cocks slicked with pre come and saliva.

Mycroft came first arching back against the cushions of the chaise. He shouted as his orgasm crested and shook with its power. Greg soon followed with a low moan, his teeth pressed against Mycroft’s shoulder and buttocks clenched tight.

Ignoring the hot, sticky mess between them Greg removed his hand to wipe it on his jeans. Mycroft nibbled along his jawline as Greg eased himself down to lie next to him.

“Oh dear god, that was amazing,” Greg mumbled into Mycroft’s hair. Mycroft hummed in agreement.

There was a knock on the privacy fence from their neighbor. “Mr. Lestrade, are you okay?” a voice called from the other side.

Mycroft eyes got wide and Greg started to snicker. “Just fine, Mrs. Foster.”

“I thought I heard a shout.”

Mycroft pushed Greg away and started to pull up his pants. He was stymied when he got to his shirt and trousers. Greg silently laughed.

“Mycroft stubbed his toe, is all.” Greg managed to say, without sounding too choked with laughter. Mycroft gawped at Greg who stood and fastened up his jeans part way.

“Oh dear Mr. Holmes, you should put some ice on it.” Mrs. Foster suggested.

Greg helped Mycroft up from the chaise. He pulled off his shirt and wiped off some of the cum clinging to Mycroft’s clothes. “Yes, ma’am.” Mycroft manage to reply glaring at Greg. “I was just heading in to do that.” Then he made a beeline for the back door.

“Did you know she was in her yard?” Mycroft demanded as they readied the shower.

Greg shrugged. “We spoke over the fence when I first came out. I thought she’d gone back in.”

“We’re never doing that again.” Mycroft announced as he stepped under the spray.

Greg looked at the jeans in his hand speculatively. “We’ll see,” he murmured and smiled to himself.


End file.
